April 2018
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
mealed-with-flesh
from man-mold made
man-mould mound
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
a universe
wholly cosmetic
(who knows how?)
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
nothing's said hot
lest it be dreamed out
in nothing but words
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
a twitter of insignificance from the cygnet
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
shining cuckoo in transparent absence
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
baby booming
songs of departure
thunder light
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
unseen breeze
just as night rustles
into the earth
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
wordless tryst
the scent of crushed leaves
where we lay
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
sighs adrift
in the shadow shift
of a fontanelle
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
ebbing light—
a milk-heavy cow tastes
the last of it
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
distant storm
a door creaks open
to absence
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
haiku rubrics
red ochred hands
scale the wall
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
paschal moon
i eat what i am
to become
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
In Isolation
One of the positives of living in these small, isolated, and lightly populated islands is that one has the opportunity of not only being able to become (should one so desire) a big artistic fish in a small sea, but also one comes to know many other artistic fish as friends and regular acquaintances, including many mentioned in this linked article.
In my college and university years I read everything that I could lay my hands on while also attending artist parties, poetry readings, art shows etc. etc. Perhaps I had become a regular culture vulture with literary aspirations of my own without the voice I could yet call my own in the ferment of artistic activity flourishing all around in the ass-end of the world.
By some strange twist in the fabric of the tapestry of fate, I found my voice in the ever-challenging muteness of my first born's autism-born psychic isolation and resistance to human contact.
My literary silence continued for the four decades of my life that I embraced as father and provider for a growing family sailing along the spectrum as refracted by the apparent spectre of autism and its consequences for us a family living at or beyond the fringe of normality.
No longer able to work I have ventured a little out of the silent darkness of a paleolithic cave to rediscover my voice as a small fish in a vast ocean before it falls into timeless silence.
haiku verse
my voice settles within
dreaming room
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: April 2018
a tulip waits
in the silence
before daylight
a river's roar rises
from the heart of darkness
the yellowed keys
of a vintage steinway
gather dust
songs of yesteryear
seep through cracked windows
a sparrow feather
stays aloft
in the summer sun
barely a breath
the stillness
of a deer
child lying slain
by a father's gun
the echo
of an ancient tale
now so real
from the belly of leviathan
he slouches toward ninevah
sunset fire
its hour comes round
in the end
Clayton Beach
Hansha Teki